Difference between revisions of "Yakuzaverse"

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(Bit 4 - the substory)
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"No, I'll do it this time, Mack's supposed to pay me to review these places anyway."
 
"No, I'll do it this time, Mack's supposed to pay me to review these places anyway."
 
=== Bit 4 - the substory ===
 
 
I was halfway down the river, in front of the Don Quixote, when I heard the voice of a woman speaking perfect English. "E-excuse me!"
 
 
I supposed I had time for her. "Ah? You must be a tourist, right?" I looked in the direction of the voice, but the only person there looked pretty distinctly Japanese. Four-foot-eleven, straight black hair, dressed like an office lady. "...Unless I'm mistaken..." I switched gears and spoke Japanese instead. ''"My mistake, I'm sorry."''
 
 
"Uh...pardon?" The Japanese-looking woman asked. "Sorry, I ''am'' actually a tourist, I was wondering if you could help me with something."
 
 
"With what, exactly?"
 
 
"Well...I'm here on vacation with my grandmother, and got separated from her, and...I'm a bit embarrassed to say..." The way she has a hand on the back of her head is pretty distinctly Japanese anyway - if I wasn't listening to her talk, I wouldn't have believed she wasn't from here.
 
 
"What could be more embarrassing than being separated from your grandma?"
 
 
"Well...the thing is, I don't actually know Japanese."
 
 
''What?''
 
 
"I know, it's so hard to believe," she continued. "My family came to America a little after the war, and I never really had a reason to learn to speak or read Japanese until now."
 
 
"I can see why that'd be a problem. I guess you were following Grandma around before, huh?"
 
 
"Yeah. I lost track of her after we checked out at this store here." She pointed inside Don Quixote. "I mean, I bought some Pocky and a pair of nice socks, but that's not worth losing my grandmother!"
 
 
"Well, this is kind of a confusing store anyway, but given the way this town can be, I don't blame you for being worried. Want me to help you look around?"
 
 
"I'd really appreciate it!" She bowed at me - Japanese, through and through; even if she didn't learn the language, her parents must have raised her that way anyway - and introduced herself. "My name's Yumi, by the way."
 
 
"That's a good name," I remarked. "Mine's Antonia. People call me Ruby."
 
 
"Ruby, huh? I love it!"
 
 
"Yeah. Yeah, I...kinda get that a lot." I got to thinking about places a Japanese-American senior citizen might want to visit around here. Restaurants as far as the eye can see, certainly, but one or two host clubs were around there that catered towards older women. Also used books, souvenirs, takoyaki stands...but I figured if she was going anywhere, she'd want a common, visible meeting spot first. I motioned up the river toward the Iwao Bridge. "Let's go see if we can spot your grandma in a crowd."
 
 
Crowd, then, was not nearly accurate enough of a word. More like a mob, it looked like, but it was peak foot traffic hours, anyway. "Lot of people use this bridge as a meeting spot," I called back to Yumi, raising my voice over the noise. "If your grandma knows you got separated from her, she might be waiting for you here."
 
 
Yumi reached the top of the stairs to the bridge, putting a hand on my shoulder as if to tether herself to me. She glanced around a few times, but wasn't catching anything. I couldn't find anybody that looked old enough to be her grandma either. "I don't think she's here," Yumi said barely loud enough for me to hear.
 
 
We moved elsewhere, to another common meeting spot, Ashitaba Park. While it was nowhere near as crowded as the bridge, there was no sign of our missing senior citizen, either. I decided to ask a nearby ramen vendor if he'd seen her. "''I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm trying to help this woman find her grandmother.'' Uh, I just realized, Yumi, I never asked you to describe her."
 
 
"OK, so, she's...in her 80s now, walks with a cane, and she was wearing a neon-pink winter coat."
 
 
I translated for the vendor, struggling to remember what the Japanese was for "pink" (it's "pinku," by the way, which is probably why I didn't remember). He didn't recall seeing anybody wearing pink - if it was as loud of a shade of pink as Yumi said, there was no way he'd have forgotten if he had. We thanked him, apologized for bothering him, and moved on.
 
 
"I just don't get it," I began. "Even if you hadn't described her to me, there's no way I would have missed an 80-year-old wearing hot pink!"
 
 
"I know, you'd think it'd be impossible to lose her in the first place!"
 
 
We wandered up the road a bit as we thought about other places she could have wandered. Our travels brought us past an old, unassuming little shrine. "Maybe we should ask the gods."
 
 
"Wait, are you Shinto?" Yumi asked.
 
 
"I mean, I'm not really religious to begin with, but I find it doesn't hurt to do as the locals do."
 
 
We walked up to the temple to find a couple of brutish men there, and just hidden behind them, a very noticeable splotch of pink. I signaled Yumi to stay back. This always struck me as a shitty part of town to put a shrine, considering whatever money was destined for the storage box tended to get extorted before it ever made it there...case in point.
 
 
''"You don't understand, I am looking for an apartment building,"'' I heard a slightly shaky, elderly voice say.
 
 
''"We're lookin' for somethin', too, and we figured you could help us."'' The words themselves were respectful enough, but the combination of his gruff tone and his leaking Kansai-ben accent were making it sound pretty rude.
 
 
''"This must not be the place, then. I will go look elsewhere if you two young men could move aside."''
 
 
''"Nah, lady, you're the one who doesn't understand. We're lookin' for cash, jewelry, fancy shit,"'' said burly guy number two. ''"Now you could either dump it all in that box to some gods who ain't listenin', or you could donate it to a fund that's gonna clean up this damn town."''
 
 
''"The only thing that needs cleaning up is hoodlums like you,"'' said the lady, who was playing with not just matches, but a blazing inferno.
 
 
"That's my grandmother!" Yumi whispered. I needed to step in, right now.
 
 
Burly number one noticed me almost immediately. ''"American? Always think you gotta solve other peoples' problems."''
 
 
I retorted without thinking. ''"When it's fuckers like you causing those problems, you really think you have the moral high ground here?"'' I shifted my stance carefully, anticipating violence.
 
 
The other guy turned to me now as well, and they both raised their fists, with number one taking the first swing. I snatched for his elbow and bent his attack around until his arm locked up. Number two tried to go for me as well, but I still had enough momentum going that number one's face was right in the way at the crucial moment. Having failed the first punch, Two tried for a front kick, missing both of us entirely and hitting a support pillar. I released my grip on One's arm so I could jab an elbow down at Two's knee, not quite managing enough force to break it, but enough to throw his stance off-kilter. One had shaken off the punch by now and was going for me again, this time trying to grab me. I took advantage of the height difference and ducked beneath his attempted bear hug, grabbing his legs and shoving upwards. One came crashing down into the pavement, not quite as hard as I'd hoped, but enough to put him down for a few more seconds.
 
 
Two had regained his stance by now and was winding up for another punch, aimed low. Unable to decide in time whether to parry or dodge, I dove to the side, taking the glancing punch as I fell to the ground. The men both stood over me as I rolled to face upwards. They thought they had advantage over me. They did - but not for long. I shot a leg straight upwards, nailing One right in the gut with my work boot. Two wasn't watching where his buddy landed, and almost tripped over him, but wasn't going down for just that. I sprung back to my feet, shifted around behind Two before he could wind up another punch, and made a brief jog to gain a bit of distance from him - not to run away, but to gain a margin of error. With positioning now in my favor, and Two taking the bait to run towards me, I assumed the stance I'd practiced for so many hours with Hiroya. When Two came within snatching distance, I placed my hands in strategic places, and redirected his speed right to the ground, flipping him square on his back.
 
 
One had caught his breath enough to yell. ''"I'm going for help! Stay there!"'' He bolted down a random alleyway. Two, not really planning on going anywhere, just stayed down, staring up at the buildings.
 
 
I stared him down (not hard when he's lying on the ground). ''"You're not getting back up, right?"'' He just made a tired-sounding grunt.
 
 
Yumi couldn't stand back any longer and ran towards me. "Ruby! Are you alright?"
 
 
"Eh...I misjudged a bit back there, but I've taken worse hits."
 
 
"I'm so sorry!"
 
 
"Not your fault, don't worry." I gave Two a little nudge with my boot. ''"Not gonna do that again in a hurry, though, are you?"''
 
 
''"Whatever, lady. Once my bro gets back, you're gonna get it."''
 
 
"Well, Yumi, I dunno about you, but I think we oughta get going before that other guy comes back."
 
 
Yumi was busy hugging her grandmother now. "I thought I'd lost you!"
 
 
I heard a lot of frantic footsteps coming this way. Too late to run now, I supposed. Four men in dark suits, one of which was the other guy from earlier, arrived to see Two lying there, and the three of us standing in front of the shrine just feet away. ''"Bro! I got backup!"''
 
 
One of the new guys looked at us. ''"Really? Women?"''
 
 
The first guy, though, was quick to point out, ''"But she took down Kondo!"''
 
 
Another sounded pretty disappointed. ''"OLD women? Man, I thought we were gonna be up against a real badass, Tooru."''
 
 
The last of the three spoke up. ''"I was kind of in the middle of something back there. I don't see why you had to drag us here."''
 
 
I shrugged at them. ''"Hey, if you're not into it, I'm not either. Let's just go get some chow or something and forget this happened."''
 
 
Number one, the man called Tooru, finally thought better of what he'd been doing. ''"...Yeah, screw this, I fucked up. Boss doesn't have to know, we'll find some other mark."''
 
 
I wanted to make them promise they weren't going to do that at all, but I didn't exactly have the upper hand to begin with. It was probably better to have short-circuited the fight than to have seen it to the end and wound up with a few more fresh bruises, or even a trip to the hospital for my trouble. A fighter, I was, but a dragon, I was not. All my training with Hiroya so far had been one-on-one, after all.
 
 
Yumi's grandmother tugged at my vest. She was somehow even shorter than Yumi was, but I could see the resemblence. "Thank you for finding my granddaughter," she said, in English, with only the slightest hint of a Japanese accent. "I had come here to pray for my late husband, but when I noticed she was not with me, I decided I should pray for her safety as well."
 
 
"I'm just glad those jerks didn't go all-in," I said, removing my snap-brim hat to wipe the sweat from my brow. "Anybody else wanna grab a drink? I know a place." Yumi and her grandmother agreed. The heavies went their way, and we went ours.
 
  
 
== Substories ==
 
== Substories ==
  
 
*[[Yakuzaverse/The Path of the Dragon]]
 
*[[Yakuzaverse/The Path of the Dragon]]

Revision as of 08:48, 6 September 2018

This page is pretty unfinished. Weasel plans to get to it eventually. Probably.

The Hasegawa Family

The Hasegawa Family is a small-ish family, near the bottom rung of the Omi Alliance pecking order. While they essentially function as their own Clan, they're not large enough to be considered more than a branch family of the Omi, and as such, many of their officers serve multiple roles.

The Patriarch of the Hasegawa Family is Ryuhei Hasegawa, a man who is getting up in years. Hasegawa has been running his family since the early 1980s, and was largely spared the chaos of the Go-Ryu uprising in 2006 due to their lack of manpower. Through clever manipulation of assets, Hasegawa was able to retain the majority of his profits from the bubble economy era well into the 90s, though that ultimately didn't amount to a lot. Hasegawa owns the land deed to a small club in Shofukucho South, called Iriomote, after the mountain cats that lived near his home town. He is the opposite of the usual ruthless yakuza patriarch; his years of experience have done nothing to offset his kind demeanor.

Hasegawa's Lieutenant Advisor is Yukino Wakai, a smarter, younger man in his early 30s, easily mistaken for a salaryman due to his "timid" dress style. This relative invisibility allows him to blend in to crowds and "infiltrate" businesses run by rival families, nearly always coming back with some piece of vital intelligence. It is primarily due to Wakai's information that the Hasegawa Family has stayed afloat and independent beneath the Omi banner.

Hasegawa's Captain is Dan Kobe, a man with a mind for shrewd business. Kobe's "day job" is as a tax specialist - his intimate knowledge of Japan's taxation laws since the infamous "Lost Decade" have helped the Hasegawa Family's operations remain profitable.

The Hasegawa Family's three lieutenants are Toshi Sakamoto, Samano Kasugano, and Keiji Yoshida. Sakamoto is the non-confrontational one, always looking for ways to make things happen without unnecessary fighting. Kasugano, inversely, is loud and proud, always wanting to further the Family's agenda by any means necessary. Yoshida, meanwhile, is the man in charge of managing the Iriomote, which doubles as the Hasegawa Family Office beyond its VIP area. Yoshida's daughter, Annie, works at Iriomote as a hostess.

Hiroya Tadashii, Ruby's husband, is only a soldier beneath the Hasegawa banner, but because he is one of only a few, he still has to attend meetings and help out at Iriomote once in a while.

Iriomote

An all-sexes host club tucked away in the back corner of Shofukucho, Iriomote is not large or glamorous, but it does stand out for being the only host club in Sotenbori to serve both male and female clients, with constantly rotating casts of hosts and hostesses alike, and a policy not to refuse service regardless of who is asking for whom. Business, while not booming, has been steady enough to serve as a regular income for the Family.

Hiroya Tadashii

Hiroya Tadashii is the kind of man who doesn't initially look very tough. He has that "main character" look to him, but he's not the main character of an organized crime drama. He looks like he's the hot-blooded hero of a costumed superhero show, but his personality is mild like an office drone. His black hair goes a little ways down his neck, meeting his collar but not going much further. He shampoos it regularly but doesn't condition it, so it kinda comes out a bit bushy and soft, and doesn't quite comb right. He prefers khaki slacks, but wears them with a blue-and-green baseball jacket for a varsity team that I'm not sure has existed for a while. If you ran into him in the street, you wouldn't think he was anything but a regular joe. And that's where most thugs would be wrong.

Ruby Tadashii

Bit 1 - the demo version

"Yup. He's following me. Fuckin'...dammit," Ruby whispered to herself. Shofukucho was already not the best part of town for women, let alone foreign women, and especially not women that stuck out as badly as she did. How she found herself here was not really the problem; it was how she was going to get back out, while also losing the tail. But judging from the way the road was blocked in front of her, this was looking less possible by the second.

Before her stood two men in the loudest possible button shirts, had to be at least three heads taller than she was. The man on the left looked like he went to the gym twice a day, and used it exclusively as a means to get laid - his muscles looked threatening, but she knew they were built for form, not for function. The strain of a fight would sooner pull a muscle than stop any serious opposition. His bright orange shirt almost wasn't even buttoned - there was a such thing as showing too much chest, even for a man, Ruby thought - and his white slacks had probably been introduced to the pavement a few times too many to be called "white" anymore.

The other man, Ruby figured, might not have been as tall as his muscle-bound cohort, but probably weighed twice as much. His suit was maroon with gold trim around the cuffs, the jacket hanging wide open, and his shirt - buttoned to its physical limit - was a sickening, clashing shade of bright green. Still, Ruby had to at least (mentally) compliment him for somehow still being able to dress himself; no live-in assistant would dare let him out the door like that.

Ruby pulled a quick heel-spin to ascertain the situation behind her. Sure enough, the lanky fellow from the sushi joint was back there. His tweedy getup at first reminded her of her first physics teacher, before she realized he was closer to the Japanese equivalent to Steve Buscemi - the misshapen face, sunken eyes perpetually stuck half-open and bloodshot to show for it. "Alright, you got me," Ruby declared.

"Nice catch, Suda," said Fatso to Steve. "We gonna take her to the labor people?"

"Who says we gotta take her anywhere? She's an outta-towner, probably here 'cuz she thinks we're cuter than they got in America, heheh!" Steve punctuated his horrible thoughts with an over-the-top pelvic thrust. Ruby figured he was only halfway there - Tadashii was more handsome than most of the guys at her old college, but these men were nothing at all like him.

Musclehead opened his mouth, but what came out wasn't in Japanese. He raised a threatening fist. "How are you? I am fine, thank you."

Ruby badly stifled a laugh. That had to be not only the thickest accent she'd heard in years, but the worst possible phrase to say.

The meathead, meanwhile, noticed. "Quit your damn giggling, woman! I tried!" His flabbier cohort started laughing as well, earning a weak-looking punch to the shoulder.

"Well, if you paid any attention in English class," began the Mr. Pink wannabe behind Ruby, "maybe you'd know what you just said."

"And who says yer a damn linguist now?" Mr. Bulk swung at the air.

Ruby had heard enough. She shrugged. "Good grief," she said with a sigh. "Clearly you wanted something from me, is that right?" Were they not coming from a red-haired beanpole of a woman, the words wouldn't have sounded out of place coming from the foulest of yakuza.

"D'you know where the fuck you are?" said the sunken-eyed man. "This street's owned by one of the biggest Omi families in Soten!"

"Really? Thank you for giving me the tour, then," cracked Ruby. "I wouldn't suppose you'd be willing to let me go, though?"

"Not without seein' our boss," said the wide man. "An' our boss? He don't like loudmouths."

"I see. Well that's too bad, then, because this mouth ain't gettin' any quieter." Ruby stood sideways, so as to keep an eye on both ends of the pincer she found herself in.

The built man leaned at that forward angle so typical of yakuza intimidation tactics. "Normally we don't hit women, but seein' as it's this late out, and you're gettin' to pissin' us off..." He cracked his knuckles and put up his dukes.

"Don't fool yourself. If you're gonna fight, then fight!" Ruby had already weighed the odds. Three was more people than she usually took on at once, but her heart was already in top gear, and all that she needed focus on were her fundamentals, and which direction the punches were coming from.

The fat man didn't wait for further encouragement. With a speed unusual for a man of his considerable girth (then again, even a bowling ball is aerodynamic), he took off forward, both arms crossed in front of him. Ruby took half a step backwards, leaving a foot in front, then as he whiffed past, she lifted the foot and pushed hard on top of his back. Fattie's face crashed right into the pavement.

"You bitch!" Not Steve Buscemi was the next up; he threw what Ruby could only call a "roundhouse punch" - a right hook so over-the-top that, if he'd missed, he'd have fallen over of his own accord. But that, to Ruby, wasn't nearly humiliating enough. A couple hands on the right spots, and Steve's punch was redirected into a lit sign that read, "SEXY PUB PRISON." The plexiglass sign shattered, and Steve's fist took not only the shards, but a hundred-some volts from the shattered light bulb beneath it. Steve was down for the count, right on top of the fat man, who had enough trouble getting back up as it was.

The muscle man had yet to even make a move from his stereotypical boxer's stance about 20 feet away from the dogpile. "You're about to suck pavement, lady!" he screamed as he ran full-bore at her. There was enough distance between them, Ruby figured...as soon as he was within range, Ruby executed a near-perfect reverse seoi-nage, exactly as Tadashii had taught her in their impromptu judo lessons a year ago. Beefcake landed flat on his back as Ruby's elbow landed on his stomach.

With all three down, but still very much considering getting back up, Ruby had little time to waste - now was her chance to put as much distance between them as possible. The initial surprise she'd given them would have since worn off; they'd be coming at her with all they had, if she were still there when they'd sorted themselves out. She gave the pile of downed thugs a quick mock-salute, then took off in a sprint towards the Bishamon Bridge.

She'd rounded a few more corners and vanished into a POPPO store before she dared turn around. Out of breath, she immediately made for the magazine rack and pretended to flip through a Shonen Jump as her wary eyes peeked out the window. The loud trio were nowhere to be seen. She carefully replaced the magazine, gathered up a couple of rice balls and an instant soba, paid for her goods, and walked out. "Thank you," she said in English.

Ruby's cell phone rang on the way out. She juggled the plastic bags into her other hand to reach it, spending no time to check the caller ID as she flipped it open. "Moshi-moshi, Tadashii Ruby desu."

"Ruby, it's me, your husband? Don't you ever look who's calling before you hit Talk?" Hiroya Tadashii, the man she'd fallen in love with back in college, spoke English as well as Ruby spoke Japanese. "Anyway, I just got out of my meeting. How are you holding up?"

"Hell of a night so far, but nothing I can't handle. I, uh, oughta thank you for those sparring sessions, by the way."

"Did you get in a fight?" There was a note of concern in his voice.

"A few lunkheads over in Shofukucho. Said something about being in one of the Omi families, but I didn't see badges."

"Probably faking," Hiroya sighed. "There's been a rash of people lately who think they can get anything they want by pretending they're from some second-tier family."

"Lemme guess, that's what your meeting was about?"

"Maybe I'm remembering wrong, but I thought I asked you to stay out of my business."

"But you still care enough about me that you taught me to defend myself."

Another sigh came through the phone. "You know what, Ruby, I'd rather talk about this at home. Are you near the apartment?"

"I'm on...uh..." She glanced around - the Bishamon was one way, the Grand was the other. "Sotenbori...avenue? Just walked out of a convenience store."

"Alright, alright. Uh, don't cross the bridges until I meet up with you, okay? Let's meet by that game center and we'll walk home together. That way if those...lunch heads?...see you again, I'll be there to help."

"Sure thing. See ya soon, hubby."

"You too, uh...wifey?"

"You'll get this figured out yet." She was grinning hard enough that her face was starting to hurt. "Bye."

Bit 2 - Self Monologue

I crossed my legs beneath the kotatsu, situated in the corner of our tiny apartment. There was precious little floor space, so there were no bedrooms or bathrooms, or even a separate kitchen. A closet, a couple of futons, the tea table, and a fridge were about all the comforts of life. A lot of it was a pretty severe downgrade from Mama's old place, back in the States, but love, and my career, had brought me to Japan. Specifically, to Osaka, in a cramped, neon-lit district called Sotenbori...a spot where, if you were female, you were either on a date or you were about to be made INTO a date.

My birth name was Antonia Justine Travaglia. My father was an Irish immigrant to the States and a complete deadbeat, which is why the task of naming me fell to my Italian immigrant mother. I was granted the nickname "Ruby" in high school, on account of my ridiculously red hair. I didn't particularly like it back then, but it was catchier than Antonia, and there's a special place in hell for people who call me Toni.

I was born in the US, but the man I fell in love with during college was an exchange student from Japan...or at least, that's what he'd told me until well after the wedding. See, despite my studying for a law degree in college (and minoring in journalism), I'd somehow never figured out until after our first anniversary that my husband, Hiroya Tadashii, was actually a well disguised envoy to the States by way of one of Japan's biggest organized crime rings: the Omi Alliance. Somehow, they didn't care that one of their men had married an American girl - I guess they were more concerned over the potential leak of information than they were about the mixed race. But as long as I'd sworn to keep my nose out of the business, I was considered safe. Well, safe-ish. Sotenbori, much as it's a major epicenter of Osaka, is home to some pretty dark corners that a woman would really not want to be caught in. One moment you're wondering if you can take a shortcut around the crowds of hostesses and pocket tissue shills, the next you're being stalked by a bunch of men in loud suits who think they're being sneaky. That's part of why Hiroya takes it upon himself to make sure I'm trained in basic self-defense. He's not a master by any means, but his guidance has brought me to the point where I'm at least not likely to get snatched or killed out here. And that comes in handy, in my line of work.

Though I studied law in college, my journalism minor got me a lot more gainful employment when it turned out nobody in the US would let me practice law (something about my attitude being unsuitable to a courtroom). That's what I've wound up doing here in Japan: I'm employed by an online newsletter about the latest goings-on in Japan, for English-speakers. It also doubles as a social-network, where you can post blogs and photographs. My boss is honestly a bit of an eccentric, and often gets into trouble with strange people due to his unorthodox photography and tenuous command of the Japanese language, but the pay's fine, and the checks haven't bounced yet. It was either that or running the counter at the POPPO store...and this, as weird as it can get, is a little more my forte.

I hammered out the finishing touches on my article for today, a guide on where to find the comforts of life that you'd be used to if you came from outside of Japan. As great as the takoyaki is around here, I've heard from a few expatriates on MacSiv that sometimes, a guy just really wants a big greasy burger. And of course Japan has McDonald's restaurants, but my article is spent comparing a few sandwich places, from Wild Jackson to Smile Burger, and the handful of bars that happen to also serve snacks. Sure, it's almost never a plate of french fries, but drinks tend to go down easier with some finger food.

Bit 3 - dining out

I slap another cut of beef on the grill. "I know I'm not supposed to ask, but is there something wrong at work?"

"Well...I mean, you're right, but..." Hiroya absentmindedly snatches my wagyu. "Alright, Hasegawa isn't gonna like it if I talk about him to you, but he's an understanding sort of person, I think he'll forgive me."

"Is he your boss?"

"How do I put this...he's more like, the boss of all bosses." I watch as he wolfs down my wagyu and downs the little cup of sake, all without getting any on his favorite varsity jacket. "I mean, it's not a big organization that I'm a part of. All told, I think there's...I shouldn't say."

"Ten? Twenty?" I look at the plate of tripe and begrudgingly put a chunk of it on the grill.

"Closer to ten, and almost all of them are my bosses."

"Ouch. Gotta be rough. I bet none of them are nearly as weird as mine, though," I add, remembering the tale of how my boss spent an hour running away from a pair of shibas this morning in pursuit of the Perfect Shot.

"Honestly, it's probably better that way. Not many of them can agree on a given thing, so they generally just tell me to man the bar while they go do their planning in the back room." I could already see Hiroya's shoulders relaxing from across the table. Him saying even that much about his worries was good for him, confidentiality be damned.

"I thought you worked under some big business conglomerate." The Omi Alliance could only very loosely be described as a business, but I wanted him to keep doubting that I knew much about them.

Hiroya nibbled a bit on his bibimbap. "I mean, technically? We're small but we're under a bigger umbrella..."

"So what's this about you tending bar?"

"Ah, damn, I probably could have told you...uh, one of my bosses...boss's bosses...owns this little host club a few blocks away. They're shorthanded, so I've been kinda helping fill in while they try to get more staff."

"Heh...a host club? You know, I always figured that was more your style."

"I don't think hosts are allowed to be married..."

I finally decide my tripe has spent enough time blackening and offload it to my plate before it catches fire. "Which club is it, though? Can't be the Grand, can it?"

"Oh, no no, there's not a chance of that. We, uh, lost the...contract, back in 2006."

"2006? ...Probably don't know the details, though, right?"

"...Right..." He wants to say, but he's trying to focus on the bottle of soy sauce instead of me. "No, there's no way it could be the Grand. We're, uh...across town."

"What's the place called? I might like to drop in, order a few drinks." I hope my smile is disarming enough.

"Club Iriomote. It's not as big as a few of these places are, but it serves a wide clientele."

"How wide are we talking?" I'm restraining myself from whipping out my pocket notebook - this would be great stuff for MacSiv, but my interest is also personal.

"We're the only host club in town with both hosts and hostesses on staff, and we don't care which one you request." I wonder if Hiroya is so talkative now because he doesn't have to talk about his bosses.

"So if I really wanted to come in for some girl talk, I could request a hostess?"

He blushes just a little bit. "I didn't think you were the type for girl talk, Ruby."

"And I didn't think you tended bar, so that's two things we've learned about each other tonight." I don't know what I expected, but the tripe isn't so bad once it has some charcoal content in it. That, then, is something I make a note of for my next MacSiv piece. As I think this, though, my cell phone makes a pinging sound.

"That's not Eriko-chan again, is it?"

I dig the phone out of my buttoned breast pocket. "No, it's Mack. I think he saw me check in."

"If you'll forgive me for saying, he seems like he's watching you a little too closely."

"I mean, he's my boss, sure, but I don't think I blame him for taking an interest in how his employees are using his website." As I look at my notifications, I hear another ping, but it isn't from my phone; it's from Hiroya's. "Wonder who that is, then."

I watch him lean completely backwards to get the phone out of his front pants pocket (harder than it sounds, when you're sitting cross-legged on a cushion). "Ehhh..."

"Getting called in early?"

"Not exactly..." He flips his phone around to show me a headline. Cabaret Killer Strikes Again, it reads. "Yoshida-san sent me this. Seems the smaller clubs in Shofukucho are being targeted...it wasn't our club that got hit this time, though."

That crime detector in my head starts going off. "Which one's that?"

Hiroya scrolls the page down a bit. "Looks like it's the one a little ways east of Iriomote, the place that used to sell wrestling equipment. I know the manager there."

I finally read my message. It's not from Mack at all - it's a Troublr note. "Cabaret Nebula, just off Shofukucho East...I heard there was a murder there but they're still opening tonight? Do they just clean up immediately, or is something going on? I'd check it out but I already wore out my entertainment budget this month..." I tap out a reply while I chew my last bite of tripe: "I'll go see if I can find out. Stay safe, OK?"

Hiroya does his lean-back again, this time fishing for the wallet from his other pocket. "I'll get the check."

"No, I'll do it this time, Mack's supposed to pay me to review these places anyway."

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